I was SO right yesterday... I guess I'm glad cuz then I don't have to really deal with it this weekend... It will be really really weird being there by myself. So, since I'm kinda all-around blank and trying to avoid thinking about things I don't want to think about, which doesn't leave very much, and just kinda leaves me wondering what has happened to me and what it is that I think I need now, suddenly, that I didn't need before... I think I feel like a blast from the past. It was before Bartholomew and Hubby and Other Half; a long time ago before the world was this way, before I started seeing life this way, through these Americanized eyes that I guess I was probably always destined to have and now... What do I think about them? There are things I absolutely adore, there are things I love too much for words, and people... But there's always something missing. Something. Before my tan and skinny days, when ocean waves hadn't really impressed themselves upon my soul that never seemed to be able to blend in... When my identity was strong and the way I operated was bizarre, though it always has been, and I still don't understand... the way I've changed is incredible and there are times I'd LIKE to go back in time, return to the olden days of golden lust... Although back then they weren't days of golden lust... more like, just not having quite enough - and not really knowing it... Just knowing that there was something right under my skin that I never could see or put into words... And I still have that problem... My thoughts don't translate well into words and because of this ironic injustice they will become an extinct language once my body has learnt to fly when I am gone and it won't matter because I will be screaming to invisible winds, messengers to deaf ears, and sorrowfully watch my world fall apart... And things I've loved and will always love... Separating them by dot-dot-dots, and overcome by hopelessness I panic, trying to find SOMETHING in the dark to care about! I scare myself! There were days when my laugh rang through courtyards full of sandboxes and a dumpster in the corner that was more a magic fortress of wonder for those of us brave enough and sly enough to conquer its depths! And from that was born the best fortresses in the land, beautiful castles with kitchens and bay windows, and valiant steeds of rusty red, the old-school bicycles with back-pedal brakes! When Prince Charming was the boy downstairs and I was too naive to notice, to look back his plain exterior to what lies within, and laughing green eyes that begged for something I didn't want to admit, and now they're gone and I have to resort to chocolate ones that still don't fill the gap. When buttercups and dandelions fail to impress and jumping frogs no longer steal the gold, whether red or blue it doesn't really matter to me because bathtubs will always steam dreams and bubble rubble from a past I always wish, and never fail to forget the future that is fringed in fog... Do I dare to venture onward so the past is longer and I have more to regret? Or more to love and leave behind, though all the tears in the world merge to form the most beautiful sea of love, and somehow I could still manage to part it with a staff, it's not my staff and I don't know where I got it! But it's magic and it carries me away, a wayward daughter caught and torn 'til only breath remembers unconscious on a cold wind that gobbles up our happiness, and leaves something wanting.